


Weighs Heavy on the Soul

by Nokomis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, post-episode, reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2x08, Stiles deals with his dad’s news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weighs Heavy on the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Written for of_evangeline, who provided the wonderful prompt.

When Stiles gets home, the house is silent. After dropping off Isaac and Erica, he’d just driven around aimlessly, not wanting to have to go home and face the reality of what he’d done to his dad. But eventually he’d run out of roads to aimlessly travel down, and had ended up in his driveway, staring at the darkened windows and hoping that he didn’t have to face his dad when he went in.

It’s a strange feeling, and one that Stiles doesn’t like.

There are a few boxes sitting in the dining room, filled with all the things his dad had kept in his office. The corner of a picture of Stiles and his mother sticks out of one, and Stiles shoves it in deeper just so he doesn’t have to see the reminder of all that his dad has lost. Stiles is all his dad has left in the world, and his dad thinks… Stiles shakes his head, trying to shake away the creeping, painful thoughts.

There are a few folders that Stiles recognizes from working on the case with his dad earlier, and a crumpled up piece of paper lays on top of them. He smooths it out, and on it is the list of names they’d compiled. There are a few angry scrawls on the margins, and Stiles realizes that his dad had gone out to investigate the kanima’s murder tonight.

He is so incredibly lucky his dad hadn’t seen him at another murder scene. That probably would have shattered whatever tiny fragments of trust that they still have between them.

The bottle of Jack Daniels is sitting out on the table, and Stiles can see just how much of it is gone. His dad’s bedroom door is shut, and his dad’s uniform jacket is crumpled on the floor in the hall.

Stiles tries not to notice the missing badge. 

He shuts himself in his room. The adrenaline from the night is fading, leaving him exhausted. The joy from actually managing to _help_ \-- the way the mountain ash circle had actually _worked_ \-- is gone, replaced by a knot in his stomach.

Earlier, facing Jackson’s dead eyes in that room, his anger had let him face him down. He’d let himself blame him for this – Jackson running to his daddy had created the attention that had forced the town council to fire his dad, he was sure of it – and it had let him step up. Question a freaking lizard monster that as it turns out was totally possessed, which… Stiles shivers, thinking of how easily he could have been killed. Erica and Isaac had werewolf powers and they’d stayed back, but Stiles had thrown himself on the front line.

But now that he’s alone, he has to face up to the cold, hard facts. 

He got his dad _fired_. The paddy wagon heist had been his idea. Even though it had been Jackson’s absolute douchebaggery that had brought it all to light, Stiles couldn’t put the blame on him. Not entirely, not when this rift had been building between him and his dad for a while.

He sits numbly on the bed, staring at the wall. He wishes that his dad had at least yelled at him, had done _something_ other than look at him with those sad, distant eyes. Stiles can’t help but think of what his dad had said the night he’d found him outside the gay club – he didn’t even know the kid in front of him anymore – and yeah, that’s it. Stiles is the worst son ever. 

And the worst part is he doesn’t know how to explain it to his dad. He thinks that Stiles got him fired because he was playing a prank on Jackson, and Stiles just… he doesn’t even know how much that has to be tearing his dad apart. Stiles has never been a serious kid, but he’s never been malicious, and the way his dad must think of him now…

He has no idea how to fix this.

He flops back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and tries to think of how he’s going to look his father in the eye come morning. He knows what he needs to do – what he _has_ to do – but he doesn’t think that it’s going to go over well. His dad is grounded firmly in reality, likes for things to fit neatly into categories, and Stiles has no idea how he’s going to react to the news that there are monsters lurking out in the dark.

That Stiles has been keeping something this big a secret from him.

That Stiles knows who the murderer is, and that Stiles wants to _save_ him.

Because no matter how terrible Jackson can be, no matter how much Stiles wantes to just throw him under the bus… He can’t. They’ve learned too much about the kanima and the way it’s being controlled to blame Jackson for the murders, and Stiles is his father’s son. He believes in justice.

And he thinks that his dad can help figure out how the kanima is choosing its victims. He remembers that crumpled list of names, and knows that his dad is going to be investigating it anyway. The least Stiles can do is to give him the information he needs to actually figure out what is going on.

And if his dad doesn’t believe him… He picks up his phone, checks it again. The text from Derek is brief but reassuring – Scott will be okay.

Scott will help convince him.

Decision made, the knot in Stiles’ stomach lessens. He gets up, goes to the kitchen, and pours a cup of water. Then he grabs a bottle of aspirin from the bathroom and knocks gently on his dad’s door.

No answer, so he pushes it open and goes inside. His dad is sleeping on his stomach, still dressed. Stiles sets the cup of water and aspirin on the bedside table, then pulls his dad’s shoes off, setting them neatly by the closet door.

“Son?” his dad mumbles, still half-asleep.

“It’s me,” Stiles says. He crouches down beside bed. “Doing okay?”

“She wasn’t on the list,” his dad manages to get out, slitting his eyes open. “Doesn’t fit.”

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Stiles promises.”I… I’ll tell you everything.”

“Mmmph,” his dad replies, burying his face back into the pillow. His quiet snores start up again, and Stiles pats him on the shoulder, then leans in and kisses his forehead. 

“In the morning,” Stiles says again, and leaves his dad alone.

He doesn’t sleep that night.


End file.
